Outside, Avery turned her face to the sun and breathed out a heavy sigh.
Church Street was busy, and there were numerous storefront cameras. Even in the middle of the night, she couldn't believe it was where the abduction had taken place.
Where did you go? she wondered.
A quick check on her phone revealed the easiest route to Winthrop Square. She took a stroll up Church and turned left on Brattle. Brattle Street was wider than Church, with just as many shops. Across the street, she noticed the Brattle Theatre. A small alley was on one side of the building, buttressed by a coffee house. Trees hid the area in shadows. Curious, Avery crossed over and entered the narrow strip between buildings.
She moved out onto Brattle again and checked every storefront within a one-block radius on both sides of Church Street. There were at least two stores with cameras outside.
She headed into a small smoke shop.
The bell on the door clanged.
"Can I help you?" said an old, white hippie with dreadlocked hair.
"Yeah," Avery said, "I notice you have a camera out front. What kind of range do you get on that thing?"
"The whole block," he said, "both directions. Had to install it two years ago. Goddamn college students. Everyone thinks these Harvard kids are so special, but they're just a bunch of assholes like everyone else. For years they've been smashing my windows. Some kind of college prank, right? Not for me. You know how much those windows cost?"
"Sorry to hear that. Listen, I don't have a warrant," she said and flashed her badge, "but some of those idiot kids might have caused a disturbance right up your street. No cameras there. Any way I can take a look? I know the time. Shouldn't take too long."
He frowned and mumbled to himself.
"I don't know," he said, "I've got to watch the shop. I'm the only one here."
"I'll make it worth your while." She smiled. "How about fifty bucks."
Without a word, he lowered his head, walked around the counter, and turned the sign on the door from "open" to "closed."
"Fifty bucks?" he said. "Come on in!"
The back of the shop was cluttered and dark. Hidden among boxes and spare supplies, the man uncovered a small television set. Above the set-on a higher shelf-was a series of electronic equipment attached to the TV.
"Don't really use it that often," he said, "only when there's trouble. Tapes get erased every week on Monday night. When was your little incident?"
"Saturday night," she said.
"All right, then, you're in luck."
He turned on the set.
The black-and-white image was from right outside the shop. Avery could clearly see the entrance to the store, as well as the opposite side of the street and right up Brattle. The area she specifically wanted to investigate was about fifty yards away. The image was grainier, and it was nearly impossible to make out shapes in front of the alley.
A small mouse was used to scan backwards.
"What time did you say?" he asked.
"Two forty-five," she said, "but I'll need to check some other times as well. Do you mind if I just sit down and look for myself? You can get back to the shop."
A suspicious brow greeted her.
"Are you going to steal anything?"
"I'm a cop," she said. "That goes against my motto."
"Then you're not like any cop I know," he laughed.
Avery pulled out a small black chair. She wiped off the dust and took a seat. A quick review of the equipment and she was able to easily scan forward and back.
At two forty-five, a few people walked up and down Brattle Street.
At two fifty, the street appeared empty.
By two-fifty two, someone-a girl by the hair and dress-came into view from the direction of Church. She walked across Brattle and turned left. Once she passed the coffee shop, a dark image from under the trees merged with hers, and they both disappeared. For a moment, Avery could only see the indecipherable motion of various shades of black. As the scene continued, the tree shapes took on their original form. The girl never reappeared.
"Shit," Avery whispered.
She unclipped a sleek, modern walkie-talkie from the back of her belt.
"Ramirez," she said. "Where are you?"
"Who is this?" came a crackling voice.
"You know who this is. Your new partner."
"I'm still at Lederman. Almost finished here. They just took away the body."
"I need you down here, now," she said and gave him the location. "I think I know where Cindy Jenkins was abducted."
* * *
An hour later, Avery had the alleyway blocked off on both sides by yellow tape. On Brattle Street, a police car and the forensics van were pulled up onto the sidewalk. One officer had been stationed to discourage visitors.
The alley opened into a wide, darkened street about halfway into the block. One side of the street housed a glass real estate building and a loading dock. On the other side were housing complexes. There was a parking lot that could support four cars. Another police car, along with more yellow tape, was at the end of the alley.
Avery stood in front of the loading dock.
"There," she said and pointed to a high camera. "We need that footage. It probably belongs to the real estate company. Let's get in there and see what we can find."
Ramirez shook his head.
"You're crazy," he said. "That tape didn't show shit."
"Cindy Jenkins had no reason to walk down this alley," Avery said. "Her boyfriend lives in the opposite direction."
"Maybe she wanted to go for a walk," he argued. "All I'm saying is, this is a lot of manpower for a hunch."
"It's no hunch. You saw the tape."
"I saw a bunch of black blurs I couldn't understand!" He fought. "Why would the killer attack here? There are cameras everywhere. He'd have to be a complete idiot."
"Let's go find out," she said.
Top Real Estate Company owned the glass building and the loading dock.
After a brief discussion with front desk security, Avery and Ramirez were told to wait on the plush leather couches for someone of higher authority to arrive. Ten minutes later, the head of security and the president of the company appeared.
Avery flashed her best smile and shook hands.
"Thanks for seeing us," she said. "We'd like to access the camera right above your loading dock. We don't have a warrant," she frowned, "but what we do have is a dead girl that was abducted on Saturday night, most likely right outside your back door. Unless something comes up, we should be in and out in twenty minutes."
"And if something comes up?" the president asked.
"Then you made the right choice to assist the police in an extremely timely and delicate matter. A warrant could take an entire day. The body of that girl has already been dead for two days. She can't talk anymore. She can't help us. But you can. Please help. Every second we waste, the trail gets cold."
The president nodded to himself and turned to his guard.
"Davis," he said, "show them up. Give them whatever they need. If there are any problems," he said to Avery, "please come and find me."
When they were on their way, Ramirez whistled to himself.
"What a charmer," he said.
"Whatever it takes," Avery whispered.
The security office at Top Real Estate was a buzzing room filled with over twenty television screens. The guard sat down at the black table and keyboard.
"OK," he said. "Time and place?"
"Loading dock. About two fifty-two and then let's move forward."
Ramirez shook his head.
"We're not going to find nothing."
The real estate cameras were of a much higher quality than the smoke shop, and in color. Most of the viewing screens were of a similar size, but one in particular was large. The guard put the loading-dock camera on the larger screen and then spun the image backwards.
"There," Avery called. "Stop."
The image halted at two-fifty. The camera showed a panoramic view of the parking lot directly across from the loading dock, as well as left, toward the dead-end sign and the street beyond. There was only a partial view of the alley that led toward Brattle. A single car was parked in the lot: a minivan that appeared to be dark blue.
"That car's not supposed to be there," the guard pointed.
"Can you make out the license?" Avery wondered.
"Yeah, I got it," Ramirez said.
All three of them waited. For a while, the only motion came from cars on the perpendicular street, and the motion from trees.
At two-fifty-three, two people came into view.
They might have been lovers.
One was a smaller man, wiry and short, with thick, bushy hair, a moustache, and glasses. The other was a girl, taller with long hair. She wore a light summer dress and sandals. They appeared to be dancing. He held one of her hands and spun her around from the waist.
"Holy shit," Ramirez said, "that's Jenkins."
"Same dress," Avery said, "shoes, hair."
"She's drugged," he said. "Look at her. Feet are dragging."
They watched the killer open the passenger door and place her inside. Then, as he turned and walked around to the driver's side, he looked directly into the loading-dock camera, bowed in a theatrical way, and twirled to the driver's side door.
"Holy shit!" Ramirez howled. "Motherfucker is playing with us."
"I want everyone on this," Avery said. "Thompson and Jones are full-time surveillance from now on. Thompson can stay at the park. Tell him about the minivan. That will narrow down his search. We need to know what direction that car was heading. Jones has a harder job. He needs to get over here now and follow that van. I don't care how he does it. Tell him to track down any cameras that can help him along the way."
She turned to Ramirez, who stared back, shocked and impressed.
"We've got our killer."
